


Sunshine and Daisies

by IBSH_Inkblot



Series: Round Robin Writing [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Doctors & Physicians, Gen, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Mindfuck, Nurses, Psychological Drama, Subtext, Symbolism, Tragedy, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBSH_Inkblot/pseuds/IBSH_Inkblot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flowerpots are just prisons for plants, she thinks. They’re too pretty to be anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine and Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> Authors: Cynthia of the Wallflowers, Rinnivov

Flowerpots are just prisons for plants, she thinks. They’re too pretty to be anything else.

She shakes her head, the thought already trickling away. Stop thinking about that Sunny, she thinks. Stop thinking about that. Her thoughts are then interrupted by the flower uprooting itself from its dainty china pot on her bedside table and flinging itself across the room.

Pity, she thinks. It was a good flower, even if it lived in a gold-gilded prison. But at least it had made a pretty stain on the whitewashed wall.

The door opens.

“Again, Daisy?” The nurse asks with pursed lips. “That’s the third time this week. That stain’s going to be hard to get out you know.”

My name isn’t Daisy, Sunny thinks. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not like she can correct them right now.

“Sorry,” a voice warbles, brittle and dry. “I’ll try not to do it again.” Sunny thinks the voice should invest in some honey and tea. That always makes her throat feel better.

The nurse putters around the room, erasing the pretty pretty stain and trashing the flower. Sunny doesn’t like her already.

“When can I go Outside?” The voice asks. Bad-Nurse sighs.

“Soon, dear. Just be patient.” A pause.

“Can I have another flower then please?” The voice warbles again.

Bad-Nurse sighs again. “Only if you promise not to throw it again.”

“Promise.” Sunny thinks she’s lying. Daisy always lies. Mostly.

A hand appears before her face, paper thin and paper white. Sunny doesn’t like it.

”It’s Sunny’s turn to come out now.” The voice tells Bad-Nurse happily. “But I didn’t let her. I don’t like her much.”

The nurse smiles indulgently at her. “That’s nice dear.”

“I don’t like you much either,” the voice tells her matter-a-factly. The nurse’s smile disappears.

“Well-” Bad-Nurse ducks as the pretty little china pot flings itself across the room like its flower before it and shatters on the imprint of a stain.

“Go away. I don’t like you,” The voice repeats. The door slams and then there is only silence.

* * *

The day begins with an irritating beep.

Sunny opens her eyes. The pretty flower is still in its little china pot. But then, suddenly, it's gone ― pot and flower and all. It's almost as if it never existed, but Sunny knows it was there. Bad Nurse will be unhappy that it's gone.

She's going to poke the _needles_ in you again, Daisy says slyly. Sunny swings her feet over the edge of the bed and scrabbles around the floor in hopes of finding the pot. She doesn’t want to see the needles, not again.

What are you doing? Daisy asks.

“Finding the pot,” Sunny says. Her voice is scritchy and scratchy, like a crotchety old man. There’s no warble anywhere.

I thought you didn’t like the pot, Daisy says.

“I don’t.”

Then don’t look for it, Daisy says. It’ll come back anyway.

Daisy’s right, Sunny thinks. Daisy’s always right.

Go back to sleep, Daisy orders. The world will be better when you wake up. Sunny hears voices down the hall. She hesitates. She’s scared.

“I don’t want you to take over again though,” she tells Daisy. “It’ll be your turn next and you always stay awake longer than I do.”

But you don’t want to get hurt do you? Daisy reminds her. This world has the bad nurses, the hurtful ones. They’ll hurt you, drug you, rip your pretty paper skin and break your flimsy little bones. You don’t want that do you? Come now, go back to bed; sleep, and the world will be better when you wake up.

“But then I can see the pretty red flowers again,” Sunny argues feebly. She’s already giving in, she knows, already creeping towards the bed. “I like the red flowers.”

No you don’t, Daisy says.

She’s right, Sunny knows. Daisy’s always right.

When Sunny wakes up again, the little china pot is back on the table.

* * *

Sunny wakes up. It’s dark. She blinks and blinks again.

“How odd,” she says. “It’s supposed to be Daisy’s turn this time.”

Daisy doesn’t reply.

“Daisy?” Sunny asks. She sits up and she’s can’t. She’s strapped onto the bed. It’s alright though. It’s nothing new.

The silence echoes, vast and empty, and the air tastes stale. She can’t even hear the beep of the morning making itself known.

“It’s too quiet without Daisy,” Sunny tells the dark. The dark doesn’t answer her. How disappointing.

There’s a slam and a flick and the room blazes with light. Sunny blinks and blinks again and the spots slowly fade.

“How do you feel Sunny dear?” The sickly-sweet voice of Bad-Nurse asks. Sunny doesn’t answer. She doesn’t like the hurtful birds, chittering, chattering, like nothing’s wrong.

It’s too quiet without Daisy.

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you’ll be all cured soon,” Bad-Nurse simpers, stroking her hair.

A magpie, Sunny thinks. Chitter, chatter, beady eyes; greedy fingers, glittery lies.

“You’ll have to stay for a few more days to make sure the operation and medications worked properly, but you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Sunny doesn’t like this nurse-shaped magpie. Bad-Nurse gives Sunny one more smile and leaves, lights flickering out behind her. Sunny lies still, staring at nothing.

“It’s too quiet without Daisy,” she tells the dark.

When she wakes up again, it’s still too quiet.

* * *

This time Sunny wakes to sunshine.

Odd, she thinks. Where are the beeps? She sits up and voices this question to Daisy but only silence replies. Sunny doesn’t like this.

“Daisy?” Sunny asks. Nobody answers. Perhaps this is one of Daisy’s hide-and-seek games?

The thought doesn’t last long though, because the door throws itself open, and a girl is shoved in. Curious, Sunny pads over to her to take a better look.

The girl is pretty. Like a fallen angel, Sunny thinks. Fascinated, Sunny reaches out to touch the girl’s silky, white-gold locks of hair. She never gets the chance. As Sunny reaches out, the girl’s hair moves, intertwining into numerous snake-shaped twists. They rear back and hiss at her. Sunny withdraws her hand sharply, darting back to the bed.

“This is a dream, a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” she tells herself. “It isn’t real, nothing’s real, Daisy, Daisy wake me up please...”

“You’re already awake,” the snake girl says. Sunny stares at her blankly.

“You’re just a dream,” Sunny tells her. Snake-Girl frowns, blind, milky eyes terribly confused.

“No I’m not,” she says just as solemnly. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m Daisy.”

Sunny doesn’t believe her. Daisy always lies after all.

* * *

“Sunny dear, the doctors say you can leave soon,” Bad-Nurse says brightly. “Come on, you should be happy shouldn’t you? You haven’t been outside in years!”

“Where’s Daisy?” Sunny asks instead. “I want Daisy.” Bad-Nurse frowns chidingly.

“Now dear, you don’t want that horrible girl to come back. Not when we just cured you.”

“I do want Daisy. I do, I do, I do. It’s too quiet without her.”

Bad-Nurse smiles, falsely bright. “I’ll get you some music then, dear. It won’t be so quiet after that.” She bustles out of the room, bang of the door ringing in the silence. Sunny stares blankly up at the white white ceiling.

“I don’t want some stupid music,” she says plaintively. “I want Daisy.”

The snake girl is there again, just a few feet away.

“Go away,” Sunny tells her. “You’re not Daisy.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she says, brittle and dry. “I’m still Daisy.”

“No you’re not,” Sunny says with an air of finality. “Daisy always lies.” Sunny turns and lies down on the bed. She’s ready to wake up again.

Behind her, the little china flowerpot gleams under the fluorescent light. Snake-girl is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Sunny wakes up to see red flowers. She sits up and swings her feet off the side of the bed. There’s a message spelled out in pretty red petals all over the floor.

“Come,” she reads, giggling with glee. This must be one of Daisy’s hide-and-seek games! “ C-ome.” Sunny gets up and picks her way over to the door. There’s a trail of broken china leading out of the open door.

She hesitates at first. “Co-ome,” she repeats to herself, and she steps out the door. The hallway is empty. Sunny scurries, quietly at first, down the endless trail of china. The shards grow smaller and smaller.

Sunny stops at a crossroad; no more shards left.

“Daisy?” She calls. “Where are you? I’m tired and there are no more shards left.”

“I’m here,” Snake-Girl says from the path to her left. “Come on.”

“You’re not Daisy,” Sunny says again.

“Come on,” Snake-Girl repeats. She reaches out to grasp Sunny’s arm.

“No!” Sunny yanks her arm away, taking a step back. “I don’t want to go with you!”

“Sunny-”

“Go away! You’re not Daisy!” Sunny runs, away from Snake-Girl, down the opposite hall.

“Sunny!”

Sunny doesn’t stop. The empty hallway echoes with her pounding footsteps.

(It really is too quiet without Daisy.)

* * *

Sunny is Outside. She blinks and blinks again. There’s blue high above and chirp-chirp-chirp sounds all around. There’s green and there’s brown, and the ground is littered with red flowers. Sunny breathes and the air tastes fresh.

She steps into the sunlight and her skin begins to sizzle. It hurts. She stares and she pats at it, hoping to put it out, but the sizzling spreads, her paper-pale skin blistering as red as the flowers. Sunny cries out, darting back into the shade. The pain doesn’t stop. Her fingers begin to shrink, her hair thinning and falling away in clumps and clumps. She shrivels and wrinkles, nastier than prunes. Her ears are gone ― no more chirp-chirp-chirp. Her vision begins to dim.

“Daisy...” Sunny calls. She begins to cry as she crumples to the ground. “Daisy, where are you?”

“Silly Sunny,” Daisy’s voice echoes faintly, brittle and dry. “I’m right here Sunny. I’ve always been right here.”

Sunny can’t see anymore. She’s floating, floating in darkness. She can’t see and she can’t feel, but her skin no longer burns.

“I thought they killed you Daisy,” Sunny cries.

“Don’t be silly Sunny. How can they kill me when I’m a part of you?”

“You didn’t answer me though,” Sunny says petulantly. “I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be silly Sunny,” her voice echoes again. Sunny closes her eyes and allows herself to float in silence. It’s a nice sort of quiet.

Sunny sees a flower, floating in the darkness. It’s white, dipped in red, and it’s growing.

“We’re not going to see each other again,” Daisy says suddenly. Her voice is fading, but it’s very very sad. “They cured you. You’re going to go Outside again. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“I know,” Sunny tells her.

“Liar,” Daisy laughs, and chokes on a sob. “You’ve always been the liar.”

(She’s right, Sunny knows. Daisy’s always right.)

“No I’m not,” Sunny says.

“Yes you are,” Daisy laughs and sobs. “Liar liar liar liar liar...”

* * *

Sunny wakes up to beeps and sunlight. She blinks and blinks again and she sits up.

Her paper-pale skin is intact and her hair is still there. Her fingers are right again and nothing is shrivelled. There’s a stain on the wall and the flowerpot is nowhere to be seen.

A nurse pokes her head in the room.

“How do you feel today, Sunny dear?” She asks.

“Fine,” Sunny says.

The nurse smiles. “I told you the operation and new medication wouldn’t be that bad, didn’t I?” Sunny stares at her unblinkingly.

“I don’t like you much,” she tells her matter-a-factly. The nurse’s smile falters. Sunny turns away. “Go away,” she tells her. “I don’t like you.”

The smile comes back, falsely bright. “You’ll be happy to know that the doctors say you can leave tomorrow.”

Sunny ignores this, staring at her paper-pale skin. If she squints, she thinks, she can still see a bit of red. “I thought my skin burnt up when I went Outside,” she says.

The nurse laughs in an indulgent sort of amusement. “What are you talking about Sunny?” She says. “You haven’t been outside in years.”

* * *

Sunny wakes again to beeps and sunlight. She sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed just as the nurse bustles in again, carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Get ready to leave alright?” The nurse tells her. “Your mother will be here in ten minutes.” The door bangs shut behind her and Sunny looks around. The clothes are laid out for her, bright and cheery, but she ignores them.

She stands and creeps over to the stain on the wall. She rubs it, but it clings stubbornly to the wall. She looks at her hand, still paper-thin and paper-white.

(If she squints, she thinks, she can see a little dark patch on her fingers, like a lingering imprint of the stain on the wall.)

A knock. “Are you ready yet Sunny?”

“Just a minute,” Sunny calls back. She creeps to the trash bin in the corner of the room. There’s the flower, white and crumpled and still alive. Sunny scoops it up and cradles it close. The broken shards of the flowerpot in the trash gleam under the fluorescent light.

“I’m ready now,” she tells the nurse.

She’s not.

* * *

Sunny’s new room is spacious and white.

“Do you like it?” The lady asks anxiously.

“It’s fine Mom,” Sunny tells her. There’s a picture of a girl hanging on the wall. Like a fallen angel, Sunny thinks. Sunny reaches out to touch the girl’s silky, white-gold locks.

“No don’t do that,” The lady scolds, grabbing Sunny’s wrist. “You might damage the picture.” Sunny wrenches her arm away, but lowers it obediently, wandering around her room.

Outside the window, there are red flowers. There’s an empty china pot on the bedside table but no stain on the wall.

“Do you like it?” The lady asks. “I saw you had a pot at the hospital and I thought you might like one here. You can plant that flower you’re holding in there you know.”

“I don’t like it,” Sunny tells her matter-a-factly. The lady’s smile falters and droops. Sunny picks up the pot and throws it against the wall. China shards rain down on the white white floor but the wall remains unstained. Sunny is only slightly disappointed.

“I’ll clean that up,” The lady sighs disapprovingly. “Even if you didn’t like the pot, there was no need to smash it. Please don’t do that again. I’ll get you a prettier one.”

Sunny doesn’t want a prettier one. Sunny doesn’t like flowerpots. She misses Daisy. She wants to go back to see her.

“What are you doing?” the lady asks in alarm. “You can’t go outside like that! Look at what you’re wearing!”

“Oh,” Sunny says. “Okay.”

* * *

The lady comes back.

"Here," she says, smiling. She holds out a pretty little china pot. Sunny stares blankly. "Go on," the lady urges, beginning to look impatient. Sunny slowly reaches out and takes the pot. She doesn't want to. Sunny doesn't like flowerpots.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Plant your flower!"

"Don't want to." Sunny says. The lady frowns, wrinkles appearing across her pale forehead. She doesn't look happy. That's okay though. Sunny doesn’t either.

“I’ll plant it for you then,” she says, snatching the flower out of Sunny’s hands before she can say a word. “How nice; it’s a daisy,” The lady says carelessly, and smiles. Sunny doesn’t like her much.

(Sunny doesn’t like a lot of things. Sunny doesn’t like flowerpots or magpies or red red flowers. Sunny doesn’t like Daisy either, but Daisy says she does, and Daisy’s always right.)

The lady sweeps out of the room, humming, and the light shut off behind her. Sunny stares blankly at nothing. The silence looms, vast and empty, and the air feels stale.

“It really is too quiet without Daisy,” she tells the dark. “Please give her back.”

The dark doesn’t reply. Sunny can’t even bring herself to feel disappointed.

“Go to sleep Sunny,” she tells herself. “Everything will be better when you wake up. Daisy said so and Daisy’s always right.”

* * *

Sunny wakes up to beeps and sunshine. There’s a pretty little china pot on her bedside table and no stain on the wall. She sits up.

“Sunny! Remember to get dressed up alright? You’re going outside today and you have to look your best!” The lady calls from behind the door.

Sunny swings her legs off the side of the bed and stares down at the white flower in the pot.

The lady sweeps in, hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Don’t you want to go outside?” She spies the white flower, wilted and dead. She clucks. “Oh dear. You’ll have to get a new one I’m afraid. There’s no saving _that_ one.” She picks it up and carelessly tosses the flower into the trash. “Now hurry up and get dressed.” She sweeps out of the room as quickly as she had come. Silence looms again, vast and empty.

Sunny creeps over to stare at the white flower in the trash, crumpled and broken. She picks it out gently, cradling it in her hands. It’s dead though, dead and mangled beyond repair. Sunny flings it across the room. It makes a pretty stain on the white-washed wall.

The silence looms, still vast, still empty. The air tastes stale and _it’s too quiet without Daisy._

Sunny picks up the pretty little china pot and flings that too at the window. There’s a cry of alarm outside and glass and china wink and glint, intermingling as they rain to the floor.

The sunlight streams in, unhindered. Sunny leans out, the air of Outside cool and fresh to her lips, but in the end, she can’t see anything but red flowers.

 


End file.
